


Zenith

by ohemdee



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Character Study, Description of Genji's Injuries, F/M, Fall of Overwatch, Kissing, Major Character Undeath, Medical Trauma, Not A Happy Ending, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, description of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 02:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14416098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohemdee/pseuds/ohemdee
Summary: “When I was a child, one of my favourite myths was that of Icarus, flying too close to the Sun and falling. It wasn’t until much later that I learned the second half of the warning Icarus was given- fly too high and have his wings melt, but fly too low and they will become wet and he will be dragged into the sea. Finding that sweet spot of perfect flight is what I am to do: achieve more than anyone has before, but without burning everything down."A character study of Angela Ziegler, interwoven with Overwatch's canon, up until the explosion of the Swiss base, and the subsequent breaking up of the team.





	Zenith

**Author's Note:**

> This was my fic written for the Fanauthor Workshop, hosted by the lovely [betts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/pseuds/betts). It took me a good long while to get this up, but I can finally share it with all of you!

“Tell me how this works again.” Her unsteady child’s hands held the pinhole projector up, her eyes trained on the slowly shrinking crescent on the paper in front of her. Her dad chuckled, and she tilted her head up, frowning a bit when she realised he wasn’t immediately answering the question.

“So the hole we made in the paper focuses the light onto a single point. The moon is in front of the the sun right now, so the shape is a crescent because that is the shape of the light being given off. Once the moon has passed, we can do this again, and you will see the light is a circle. 

Angela nodded thoughtfully. “Can I look at the sun yet?” 

“Not quite yet, dearest. If you look too early, the sun is still too bright and it will make you go blind. Have I told you the story of Icarus before?”

She shook her head, and looked up excitedly. At six years old, she was convinced that her dad had already run out of stories, and, even though she had her favourites that she demanded on a nearly nightly basis, the potential for new ones was tantalizing. 

“Okay, sit down. When we have reached totality, it will be very dark. And only then can we look at the sun.” Angela happily clambered into her dad’s lap, settling back against his chest, and then testing to see if she could hold her projector out to the side and get a view of the eclipse.

“This story is a very old story. It goes all the way back to Ancient Greek times, and may have been a myth already by then. Icarus was the son of a man named Daedalus, an inventor, who was trapped in a big maze, called a labyrinth, that he had built. Daedalus made a wonderful plan for them to leave, and built them giant wings of wax and feathers.” He held his hands out to the side, and then picked up Angela’s hands and flapped them through the air. “They flew out of the labyrinth, and Daedalus gave his son a warning: ‘Do not fly too close to the sun.’ But Icarus was too delighted with flight and travelled higher and higher until the wax began to melt on his wings. It was too late when he realised he had no feathers left, and fell into the sea. 

Angela looked up sharply at her dad’s face. “He fell? Why didn’t Daedalus save him?” 

“He would have been too heavy, and Icarus fell too quickly. Even to this day, that sea is named the Icarian Sea for him. And the lesson is that you should always listen to your parents.” He tickled her stomach, and she shrieked and giggled, cut off when the sky turned dark, and everything around them fell into a strange shadow. 

“Okay.” Her dad looked up to the sun. “You can look now, very briefly. We have reached totality, it’s safe.”

She tipped her head back and held her breath. The sun had turned into a dark circle in the sky, surrounded by the barest remnants of its light. 

“Alright, little one, that’s enough. I don’t want you to still be looking when the moon moves. And I think your mother has made your favourite sandwiches for lunch. It will be a little while until the moon is fully past, and we can look at your projector again.”

She scooped up her projector and papers and followed her dad up to the house, but couldn’t resist turning her face up to the sun one last time. The light was so much more than she expected, and nearly immediately spots began to dance in front of her vision. But, she saw the shape that she had only seen in her projector before, a perfect crescent of light around a dark moon. And, to her, it was worth the risk to see it directly for herself.

 

* * *

 

It was one thing to know that Overwatch was a massive organization, with Watchpoints on every continent, and more bases than anyone knew about scattered in between, and a whole other to step into the Visitor Receiving Area of the Swiss base, and see that Overwatch was far from the ragtag group of heroes that had been portrayed on the newsreels of Angela’s youth. She had been stripped of all electronics, handed a badge, collected by a harried looking cadet, shuffled through more hallways and elevators than she had any hope of keeping track of, and finally left in front of a disinterested receptionist who invited her to take a seat, leaving her to stare at the plaque on the door in front of her: “Jack Morrison, Strike Commander”.

She was itching to review her notes one last time, her mind slowly beginning to gain momentum in its thoughts. What if she had the wrong day? The wrong time? Surely someone would have mentioned something on her walk through the base, but given how busy everyone had seemed, maybe not. She had been early, but not excessively so, wanting to seem eager but not pushy. Quite frankly, she was shocked that she had gotten the meeting in the first place, and had been building it up in her mind since she had received the message. Her research had stagnated about six months ago, stuck between the hospital being unwilling to fund something that they deemed to have no day-to-day utility and a lack of resources to prove them wrong. She had turned to Overwatch in what had seemed like a last ditch effort, hoping her proposal could mean more funding for her, and the chance to continue doing what she loved.

The door in front of her opened, and she looked up to see a man who was taking up significantly more of the doorframe than should be reasonably possible. People just weren’t naturally that big, unless…

He offered his hand. “Jack Morrison, Strike Commander. Dr. Ziegler, I presume?”

Angela nodded and got to her feet. “Yes, and just Angela is fine, thank you.”

He held the door open, and Angela tried to take in everything at once. A bookcase lined one wall, filled with identical volumes, a massive desk in one corner, with screens that seemed to be lighting up with text and photos of their own accord. A window that supposedly looked outside, which made no sense, as Angela was sure she had been travelling steadily downwards inside the base on her way there. She started as the weather outside switched from sun and snow to what looked like a rainstorm before she finally saw the text on one of the panes indicating this was a screen and she was now seeing Gibraltar. 

Jack gestured to the other people seated around a table that seemed to have a screen inlaid across its top in the centre of the room. “Gabriel Reyes, head of Blackwatch, and Ana Amari, my second-in-command. Reyes has been keeping tabs on your work for some time now, so we were intrigued when you came forward with a proposal.”

They already knew about her research? She tried not to let that invade her thoughts too much. Jack moved around her, taking his seat between Ana and Gabriel, and indicated the solitary chair across from them. “Please, sit.”

Ana was offering her a glass of water as she was sitting, which Angela took gratefully and immediately had a long drink from. The new knowledge had made her mouth run dry, and she took a moment to stack all of her papers and compose herself before beginning. 

“My proposal today is primarily a request for funding, and I believe that my research is going to be of utmost interest to Overwatch as a whole.” As she spoke, her heart rate settled. She knew her research and its value inside out and backwards. “When I was a child, one of my favourite myths was that of Icarus, flying too close to the Sun and falling. It wasn’t until much later that I learned the second half of the warning Icarus was given- fly too high and have his wings melt, but fly too low and they will become wet and he will be dragged into the sea. Finding that sweet spot of perfect flight is what I am to do: achieve more than anyone has before, but without burning everything down. And that is where my nanites fit. I believe that I can develop technology to immediately aid those on the battlefield, healing them where they stand, and keeping them alive through difficult situations where standard medical care isn't possible.” She pulled out the first of her diagrams, passing it across the table.

She was about to continue when Gabriel held up a hand to stop her. “Who would be using this technology?” 

Angela hesitated. “Well, ideally me, but I would be looking to publish my results, so theoretically, anyone who reads my paper and can replicate it.” Gabriel had begun staring pointedly at Jack while she spoke, and, unsure of what to do, she continued. “It would be a public scientific journal, and my results are useless without replication, so.” She shrugged, and then mentally kicked herself for trailing off. 

Ana spoke for the first time. “I think what Gabe is trying to scare Jack into believing is if Overwatch were to use this technology, we wouldn’t want it to be easily accessible to people outside of our organization.” Ana paused and looked at each of the men beside her, before fixing her gaze back on Angela. “Angela, my understanding is that you completed a short military service with the Swiss Army.” 

Angela nodded. “Yes, I did voluntary service after my first degree. I was so young, no medical program would even look at me, no matter how good my academic record or anything else was, and after losing my parents… I felt like I needed to give back to my country, perhaps prevent someone else from being in my situation.”

“And in that time did you see active combat?” Gabriel had leaned in, elbows on the table.

“Oh no, sir. The Swiss have not seen active combat in several years. I think a large part of that is thanks to Overwatch’s presence.” Angela bit her lip. “Forgive my bluntness, but I feel as though I have prepared for one meeting, and have stepped into another.”

Jack grinned, a bit tightly. “Angela, I think,” he looked at the other commanders, “we think that your proposal is brilliant, but. And I know, a ‘but’ is not what you want to hear. But Overwatch is not without its enemies, and for us to use this, when you want it be public record is too risky. It’s incredible, and wonderful, and unfortunately the world is not filled with people like you, who only have the best intentions. So, for that we are unable to fund your project.”

Angela sat back in her chair. This was hardly the answer she was expecting. And why even call the meeting if they were simply going to reject it flat out?

Jack continued to speak. “However, this is not a rejection. We want to instead offer you a position.”

“A position?” Angela sat forward. “Me? With Overwatch.”

Jack nodded. “Yes, we need a combat medic, you need to finish this staff, and I think you’ll find Overwatch has everything you could dream of.”

“If not we will get it for you,” Ana tacked on. When Jack looked at her, she shrugged. “It’s true.”

Angela arranged the papers in front of her, and felt her chest grow tight as she stared at them. Her life’s work, hanging on this decision. “I take it this would mean I could not publish my work. Which means it can’t be used to help others.”

“Not directly, no.” Ana leaned her elbows onto the table, lacing her fingers together. “At least not in the way you want. I think to say that Overwatch doesn’t help others might be a bit false.” 

Angela blushed and looked down, tracing over the sketched outline of the staff on the page in front of her before realizing she was fidgeting and folding her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry, it’s just.” She took a deep breath, and looked up to meet Jack’s eyes. “Have you ever expected to have your life go one way and then find that it is already going another?” 

Jack and Gabriel exchanged an unreadable look, while Ana laughed quietly. 

“My dear, I think that’s just life. You don’t have to make your decision right-”

“I’ll take it.” Angela surprised herself, blurting the words out. “I’ll take the position.”

 

* * *

 

McCree was shouting at her, but she could barely understand any of the words he was saying. Something about a crime family, the mission in Japan, and she had lost the rest when he deposited a man on her OR table. Or rather, the remains of a man. Really just a head, half a torso, an arm. A heart that against all odds was still clinging to a faint but steady beat. Angela let McCree carry on for a couple more minutes before she snapped at him to remove himself from her OR, and a nurse shoved him towards the door. She needed to think, and she need to do so quickly.

His entire digestive tract was going to be a write-off. The left arm was salvageable, the right would need to be removed above the shoulder. The heart was still there, and one lung. She started pulling out the newest iteration of her nanites and injecting them, watched as the cuts on his arm began to heal, the lung began to re-inflate. Time to get moving on what remained.

In theory, the nanites would heal and fill in any injury they found, starting with the most serious. In practice, Angela knew that she was going to have limited time to work before they tried to fix what couldn’t be fixed. There was simply no way that they could repair the damage to the abdomen, and they would start to draw in other tissue, anything they could find to try and resolve that. So, she started to cut, removing the possibility that the nanites would even start.

Fifty-seven hours later, and there was not much left of him. He had coded four times and woken up screaming from the minimal anesthetic they had been willing to give him without a liver to process it. She had gone through more nanites than she had ever used during a single treatment before, just barely sliding in below what she had deemed medically safe. Every time he had faltered, she had pushed through, her voice hoarse from shouting at the nurses above the buzz of machinery around them. He was alive, for the moment.

Angela glanced over at the two nurses sitting on the floor of the OR, leaning against each other, half asleep already. She ushered them to their feet, reminding them to eat something before they passed out. She took a moment before taking her own leave, checking the chart one last time, taking in the quite hum and hiss of the machines keeping the man alive. This was always the worst part for her, knowing that there was nothing more that she could do for her patient. His life was in his own hands now.

She had made it to the door when she saw movement on the bed, something green. Of course, when she turned to look there was nothing there, and she shook her head at herself. Sleep deprivation did the wildest things to your mind. Seeing ghosts, trying to turn the lights on in the bathroom by sticking her hands under the soap dispenser, which she realised she was doing halfway through the second pump of soap. Gabe was going to have to do without her for one night; the thought of walking across the base to his rooms was turning into a more daunting task by the minute, and it would be incredibly awkward for everyone if she passed out halfway there.

There was a note stuck to her door when she got there, which she peeled off and brought inside with her.

_Breakfast is in the fridge for when you finally wake up. Debrief for the mission tomorrow (18th) at 2 if you are curious. -G_

She peeked in the fridge on her way to brushing her teeth. Pancakes with another note saying _“Use TOASTER to heat”_ , some cut up fruit and yoghurt. She debated eating it right then, but another wave of exhaustion sank into her bones, and she beelined for her bed instead, walking through her tiny kitchen and directly into her bedroom. She was out as soon as her head hit the pillow, still fully clothed and lying on top of her covers. 

At first she wasn’t sure where she was, the light filtering in through her window, the sound of bird calls that she had been hearing since childhood coming in. Slowly she regained her full consciousness. Ana had teased her once and said she took so long to wake up because there was so much brain to get functioning, but Angela leaned more towards the camp that said she was constantly sleep-deprived. If everyone would stop getting hurt for a couple of weeks she could probably catch up, but at this point she was resigned to sleeping when she was dead and not a minute sooner. 

She sighed and got out of bed, stretching, and trying to strip the previous day’s clothes off as fast as she could, making her way to the bathroom. Her only regret from the night before was not brushing her teeth before she got into bed. She wandered around while still trying to scrub a whole day off of her teeth, pulling out her pancakes and sticking them in the toaster, as instructed. Gabe’s face the first time he saw her heating up leftover pancakes in the microwave was one of her favourites she had ever seen him make, and she did have to admit that he was right. They were better in the toaster.

Angela scrolled through her emails on her phone while she ate, keeping half an eye on the clock. It was only noon, but it would not be the first time she had missed a debrief because she got caught up doing something else. Buried amongst the dozens of messages from Jack and Ana was one from the head doctor in the morning rotation.

 

_He’s awake._

 

_\- - -_

_From the desk of Dr. Hugh Whitford_

_All information contained within this email is strictly confidential, and for use by its_

_intended recipient only._

_If you have received this email in error, please contact us immediately._

 

Angela froze. It was in no way possible that a man who had been in literal pieces yesterday should be conscious today. And nothing more in that message? What was Hugh getting at? She shoveled the rest of her pancake into her mouth and ran to her room to change before heading out the door.

She half-jogged the short distance from her rooms to the medical wing, entering through a side door and into the main bay. One of the nurses pointed directly to her patient’s room, and Angela nodded at him in thanks, scanning herself in.

Hugh looked up when she walked in, and then pointedly back at the man on the bed. He was, just like the message said, awake. And angry, given his expression. Angela wasn’t exactly sure what the ceiling had done to earn his wrath, but obviously something terrible.

She grabbed the chart that was handed to her, glancing over the contents. Genji. At least she could call him something now. Everything was shockingly normal from her perspective- people didn’t recover from that level of trauma that quickly. Hugh patted her shoulder as he made his exit, quietly wishing her good luck. Angela looked back at him. Good luck? What was she going to need that for?

When she turned back to Genji, she understood. He had turned his attention away from the ceiling and onto her, his glare intensifying the longer he stared at her.

She cleared her throat. “Genji, I’m Dr. Ziegler. Angela if you prefer. Can you tell me what you remember from three days ago?”

If he had two arms to cross, he definitely would be doing so right now. She lowered her clipboard. And waited. If it was a patience game he wanted to play, then she was more than happy to join in. It wasn’t as if she had anywhere else to be at the moment. Finally, Genji gave in, his exhalation steaming up the nose cannula.

“I was in a fight. Now I am here.”

Angela’s eyebrows shot up, and she lifted the clipboard again, giving her hands something to do while she pretended to make notes. “Lost a fight” was more than a bit of an understatement.

“Are those all the memories you have? Do you know where you are now?” Genji shook his head in response. Angela sighed and continued. “Would you like to know?” A nod to that one.

“You’re on the Overwatch base in Switzerland. You were brought in by some of our operatives, and I performed a 57- hour- long surgery to save your life. It was very experimental, but I have good faith that, with time, we can work to bring you back the same quality of life you had before.” She nodded, more to herself. She really needed to work on her bedside manner, although all the medical schooling in the world could not have prepared her for this particular situation. “For now, rest is my main prescription, and if you need anything you can press this.” She moved in closer and handed him a button that would call whichever nurse was nearby to his room. “Someone will come. Is there anything else you need?”

Genji’s face contorted into as much of a snarl as it could with all of the machinery hooked up to it. “I need you to go back three days, and leave me to die.”

And for the first time in her life, Angela wondered if she had gone too far, reached beyond herself in a way that she could never come back from.

 

* * *

 

She was sitting on Gabe’s bathroom counter, watching him shave, worry carving the lines in her forehead deeper.

“Staring at me like that isn’t going to change anything.”

Angela sighed and leaned back against the mirror behind her. “I just can’t believe you let her go ahead and test something so highly experimental. She doesn't know what will happen in humans. She barely knows what will happen in mice.” 

“Is that your personal or professional opinion?” He rinsed off the razor and started on the other side of his face, while she eyed up the nicks he had left behind.

“Are the hand tremors getting worse or better?” She shot back. 

Gabe held his hand out flat in front of him, watching his fingers shake under both of their gazes. “No change.” 

“Do you want me to help you finish shaving?” He mutely handed the razor over and came to stand in between her legs, running his hands up and down her thighs. 

They continued in silence, which was only broken by the soft scrape of the razor against Gabe’s cheek and the occasional running of the tap. Angela gently ran her fingers down his face when she finished, and he leaned forward to press a kiss against her forehead before moving and washing his face off. He inspected her work, and nodded at her. 

“Nice job.”

She smiled wryly back. “I am a surgeon.”

Gabe came back to resume his position between her legs, bringing his hands up to cradle her face. Angela gently kissed one palm before looking up to meet his eyes.

“I promise I wouldn't have let Moira do a damn thing if I didn't have complete faith that I would come out the other side.” 

“I just don't think you've fully thought of all the consequences. How will the nanites react? Did whatever they do to you in SEP have any effect? We just don't know Gabe, and you are too brave, and she is too rash. If something happens, I don't know if I can save you.” 

He kissed her hard on the lips. “I swear.” A quick peck. “Nothing like that.” Another kiss, one that she chased. “Will happen. I have McCree to keep me safe.” Which made her laugh, but she let him continue to hold her and kiss her breathless until both of them had to rush out the door so they could barely be on time to their morning meetings.

 

* * *

 

Angela saw the news report on the plane back to base before she received any messages from anyone in Overwatch. She hated news headlines, always had. It was just something about the way they romanticized the horrors they were shouting at her. OVERWATCH BASE DESTROYED IN EXPLOSION. NO REPORTS OF CASUALTIES, followed just as quickly by BLACKWATCH VS. OVERWATCH: DID GABRIEL REYES FINALLY TURN ON OVERWATCH? MORE AT ELEVEN  with Gabe and Jack’s faces plastered side by side.

She pressed the power button on the TV in front of her, and made her way up to the cockpit, leaning on the pilot’s seat. Thompson was a good man, one that she had patched up more than once, though nothing ever life- threatening. Most of the operatives she saw now she had long ago catalogued in her mind by their scars and injuries, some not much more than a chart she had skimmed over. He had been flying her around to the various Watchpoints while she conducted training for Overwatch’s newest batch of doctors.

He took his headset off and looked up at her. “You saw the news report?”

She bit her lip and nodded grimly. “Are we going to be able to land? I need to get in there if anyone was hurt.”

“Of course, Dr. Ziegler. I’ll get as close as I can. How high can you land from with your suit?”

A good question, one she had never really tested. A story, maybe two? Her wings certainly were not a parachute, more of a safety net for tough situations. She shook her head. “Not cruising altitude.” 

Thompson, to his credit, was an exceptional pilot, landing her on the half of the tarmac that remained near the base. She set off running as soon as they landed, jumping lightly down from the plane’s side, staff already active and blazing. The base was a mess, and she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Who would be there? Jack, almost definitely, he hardly saw combat these days. Torb and Rein, perhaps, but they were more often than not on other bases. McCree? She could feel the sad spot in her chest grow as she remembered. McCree was long gone, saw this or something equally tragic coming long before she ever could. She was too optimistic, believed too much in her fellow man. Gabe. Gabe would have been on the base, and her steps stuttered. Could he have done this? Gabe was a lot of things, but a traitor seemed far-fetched. Although she felt like she barely knew him anymore, not since Ana died. Her run had brought her to the rubble, which she carefully began to pick her way through, listening for sounds of anyone, anything to indicate that there was someone to save.

At any given time, there were a minimum of 50 operatives on this base, and, unless they had magically all teleported away just before the explosion, there should be at least one body around, alive or dead. She commed back to Thompson. “Do you have the communication records? There’s no one. It’s…strange.”

“Affirmative, Mercy. Yeah, there was an evac order, just a drill about 20 minutes before the explosion went off. Almost like someone knew what was going to happen. And it looks like everyone was airlifted out during the drill, but I can’t get anyone on any channel. I’ll keep trying, but I don’t know how long we have before we get some company, Airforce or UN, we’ll see who’s faster.”

She closed her eyes. “Who gave the evac order?” 

“Reyes.” Thompson wisely stopped there.

She resisted the urge to smash her staff on the ground. Of course, of course. Who else? He was the only person who always knew everything before everyone else, and of course he would give that order, never mind how it was going to make him look when all of this became public record. She took one shaky breath, and then another. She had to focus on the task at hand, deal with the fall out when it came. “Thompson do you have any indications of life? I’m getting nothing, but you have better equipment.”

“I have to scan, hold tight.. Yes. Well, you, and also about a hundred yards out, thirty degrees north by northwest of your position. If you walk, I can guide you.” She took one step. “Other north by northwest.” And she turned around, listening to Thompson’s voice, focussing just on that while she made her way through the wreckage.

“Okay, and stop, the signal is coming from your right. If you stick your arm out, it should be right under your hand.”

A pile of rocks. She carefully tried to move the top one, and heard a groan from underneath. More gently, she  shifted it so she could get eyes on her patient. 

“Oh, Gabe.” She pushed the rock unceremoniously to the side, exposing his head and chest.

“Hey, Ang, you’re not supposed to be here.” His face was shredded, long scratches across it that bled sluggishly.

“Gabe, what happened?” Her eyes began to travel down his body, carefully assessing. Arm, broken. Shoulder, most likely dislocated. Chest. Chest. There was a spike poking through it, something that looked like it had belonged in one of the statues in the main hall. 

“Hey.” His hand, the unbroken one, tried to come up to touch her face, and missed, flopping back down on the ground next to him. “Hey, don’t worry about that. You need to get somewhere safe.” She was shaking her head, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks as she pulled his hand up to catch her cheek. “Ang, you need to go. It’ll be okay. Go.”

Her head kept shaking of its own accord, and she was reaching back to grab her staff. 

“Angela. Angela, stop, you told me you can’t use that when you don't know what shit Moira did to me. You don't know how this will end up.” His voice was beginning to gurgle. Moving the stone probably allowed his chest cavity to fill with fluid.

She grabbed the staff firmly and brought it down to touch him, bringing the nanites into contact. “You won’t die, Gabe. I won’t let it happen.”

The last thing she saw was light, too much light encompassing both of them, before everything zeroed into a single dark point in her vision.

 

* * *

 

These were not her hospital lights. She blinked, her eyes feeling gummy and underused, with everything slowly coming into focus. She carefully inspected the room, turning her head from side to side, before looking down at her body. An IV, which appeared to be connected to nothing more than a basic saline drip, no cannula, she wasn’t intubated. How long had she been here? 

She sat up, cautious of the IV, and began to take stock. A Swiss hospital, based on the signage. She was surprised no one was running in. A recently conscious patient was usually a call for inspection. Although, it didn’t look like she was in any extreme danger. A soft knock on the door, and a nurse peeked her head through. An older woman, greying brown hair pulled back in a simple braid, framing a round face. 

“Dr. Ziegler! Good to see you up and about! How are you feeling today?” 

“Good.” Angela watched as the nurse took up her chart, and proceeded to walk over to check her blood pressure. “How long have I been here?” 

“Two days, only. You’ve been awake twice, but I doubt you remember them. Very brief. Your recovery has been quite miraculous.”

Angela nodded, trying to pretend like she knew what was going on. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember much. I was on the Swiss Overwatch base, I was trying to help Reyes, and then…” 

The nurse frowned and nodded. “Yes, quite the accident. And you were the only person there when we arrived, Angela. You kept saying there was someone else, but we couldn’t find anyone. Apparently the search continued for quite some time. You experienced some trauma to your head, so I suspect that may be a by-product of that.” 

“I don’t know what happened to me. And what about my pilot?”

“Oh!” The nurse turned to a corner. “We salvaged what we could, and we assumed you would want to keep as much as possible. Your staff malfunctioned. There was a small explosion, from your staff, or perhaps something else in the base, and you were knocked out. Your pilot friend saved you. He sent out the SOS. He also said that perhaps the scan was wrong, and there was no one there at all.” The nurse brought the staff over and put the twisted metal into Angela’s hands. “Lucky that it was an explosion of your nanites! We think that may have really sped the healing process along. Is there anything else I can do, my dear?” 

Angela shook her head, and the nurse took her leave. She waited until the door was fully shut before carefully turning the staff over in her hands, and running a fingertip over a sharper point on the end, watching as blood welled up, and then just as quickly, the cut behind it healed. Lucky indeed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many thank yous to all of the wonderful people who participated in the Fanauthor Workshop. It was an incredible experience, and I learned so much from everyone involved. A big, big shout out to betts for hosting, I can't imagine the work that would have been, and I am so grateful that you did. Again, to all of the people who participated, thank you, thank you. The comments, the edits, the letters all made this into something so much better than what it started as.
> 
> For anyone here just reading this, if you want to come say hi to me on tumblr, do so! Here is my [main blog](http://oh-emdee.tumblr.com/).
> 
> ALSO! This fic inspired some [seriously beautiful art](http://sanzosin.tumblr.com/post/173350054375/i-trust-you-completely-inspired-by-a-scene-from) which you can check on on sanzosin's blog on Tumblr at the link. I also recommend just scrolling through the rest of their art- there's some really great mercykill stuff in there, and I am beyond honoured that they drew the shaving scene from here!!
> 
> As well, I listen to a lot of music when I write, and a few of the songs that kept cropping up with this fic were these ones:
> 
>  
> 
> [Angela- The Lumineers](https://youtu.be/n7WGvjchgAU)  
> [Work Song- Hozier](https://youtu.be/nH7bjV0Q_44)  
> [Devil's Backbone- The Civil Wars](https://youtu.be/YTb6MoMLvcY)  
> [Dearly Departed- Shakey Graves](https://youtu.be/AkDycke-u6M)  
> [Glitter and Gold- Barns Courtney](https://youtu.be/GySIToHCPac)


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